Mckenzie's Podcast

Bubbles broke the surface then drifted away on the ebb tide as the weighted body sank silently out of sight to the Mediterranean Sea bed forty metres below. Back on the shore in La Carihuela, Miguel and his crew prepared their nets for a full night’s fishing…. McKenzie sat gagged and bound, tied to a chair on the deck of Don Pedro Dominguez’s luxury yacht, ‘La Dama de la Noche’. He had watched the whole scenario unfold. Paco, the Columbian Overseer, had walked into a trap and fifty kilos of pure cocaine had been seized by the Columbian authorities. In the ensuing shoot-out, Paco had managed to escape with only minor injuries. Don Pedro made arrangements for his safe passage to Marbella in Southern Spain. After interrogation at the hands of his henchmen, Don Pedro ordered his execution. Paco’s lifeless body, suitably weighted to make it sink and stay sunk, was tossed overboard, naked and cut to attract and feed the sharks that lived in those clear blue waters. McKenzie was a guest on ‘La Dama de la Noche’, on

McKenzie found himself caught-up in worship. He had begun to pray in a spontaneous way, but before long, joy and excitement began to well up inside him. All at once it spilled out his mouth in a cascade of words that were not his own. McKenzie had heard about this and he had read about it. It was even mentioned in the bible. The words came from deep inside him yet McKenzie began to have an understanding of what he was saying. He began to pray with the same effervescent joy in his own language, English. As McKenzie continued to pray in and out of his new language and his own native language, his spirit soared within him. He was transported to another place. His own voice was no longer his focus of attention. Now, his focus shifted to Jesus, and as he continued he began to see Him in glorious detail. McKenzie’s heart pounded and he was alive with tingling joy. Details began to appear; Jesus was smiling, His eyes were ablaze with deep passion and immense love. What was happening was real but it was also supe

McKenzie sat sipping his piping-hot mint tea. There wasn’t too much tea in the small chunky tumbler on account of it being crammed full of fresh mint leaves and far too much sugar. He sat at a wobbly table surrounded by a variety of leathery faced, deeply browned and near toothless men who all looked, at least, twice their age. They babbled away in a thick Arabic dialect making sure that they kept their conversation secret from uninvited ears. Sucking habitually on their shared hookah pipe, they took no notice of McKenzie’s curious gaze. Marrakech, nestled into the foothills of the snow-capped Atlas Mountains in southern Morocco, is a bizarre place. Sitting at this shabby little café, McKenzie had a commanding view over Djema el Fna, the main square of the old city. Everywhere he looked, McKenzie could feast his eyes on a vast array of extraordinary delights. Alive with the buzz of tourists and locals alike, the square was a hive of activity day and night. There was never any shortage of fascinating entertain